


pastel houses

by murbeft



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female DEA Agent, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29098428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murbeft/pseuds/murbeft
Summary: Javier just wanted this to be a normal day that he could spend in his thoughts. Then the phone rang.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Original Female Character(s), Javier Peña/Reader, Javier Peña/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	1. three calls

Javier Peña woke up to the strained buzzing of his alarm clock. A firm hand slapped the wood paneled device to make it stop before groping the bedside table for his pack of cigarettes. He placed the pack to his lips, instantly putting one in his mouth while his other hand fished around in his jeans pocket for his lighter.

Light. Fire. Smoke. Inhale. _Breathe_.

Javi hadn’t intended on falling asleep in the clothes he wore yesterday. However duty called, as it always did, with a tip about a potential Escobar hideout, so he was up late with you and Murphy, driving slow through the streets of Medellín with your lights off, looking for any suspicious activity that fell in line with your leads from Centra Spike.

Another deep inhale from the cigarette. Count to three. _Exhale._

Since the day you met, Javi couldn’t get you off his mind. _No. Before that_. Messina mentioned something about bringing in another DEA agent to assist him and Murphy which led to the two of them briefly pausing their efforts to find Escobar and instead pull any and every piece of information about you they could find.

* * *

A born and bred New Yorker, college brought you to California. A degree in criminal justice brought you to becoming a police officer. The cocaine trade in Los Angeles brought you to the DEA. Murphy marveled at the accolades in your file. “Marksmanship, Interrogation and Negotiation, fuck, even set a record in a hostage recovery drill.”

“Yeah, next thing you’re gonna tell me is she played flute in the police band,” Peña scoffed.

“No, marching snare, actually,” Murphy replied. Peña’s eyes shot up and met Steve’s. They stared at each other for a beat before the blonde broke into laughter and shook his head.

“Javi, I’m just fucking with you. But this chick has already weaseled her way into your brain hasn’t she? Got an inferiority complex you wanna share with the class?”

Peña replied with a firm middle finger before lighting a cigarette. “No, you shit head, it just all seems too good to be true. There’s always a chip in the glass. An issue in hiding that this job…this _place_ brings to a head.”

* * *

Grinding the spent cigarette into the ashtray that now laid on his chest, Javi took a deep breath before finally escaping from the warm confines of his bed and getting ready for the day.

The concept of a hot shower was one of the few sacred things to Javier Peña. Freshly ground and brewed coffee, good pussy, and a hot shower. Not always in that order, but if there was a church dedicated to those three things specifically, he would be it’s first prophet.

That thought made Javi chuckle to himself as he flung back the plastic curtain and stepped into his shower. He knew he had some time to spare, so he decided to savor every quiet moment he had underneath the water’s spray.

But again his thoughts started to wander.

* * *

The day Peña came into work and the duo desk situation that had been his and Murphy’s was suddenly a trio desk, a pit of nerves formed in his stomach.

He didn’t even notice that you were already sitting at your desk until you closed one of the drawers with a metal screech. You had quickly stood and held out your hand, giving a name that Javi didn’t quite hear at first. He just stared at you dumbfounded, lit cigarette dangling from his lips. As his hand slowly moved to take yours, Murphy appeared and quickly took over for introductions. Javi swallowed and let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding as your hands shook. He marveled at how soft your skin was and before that thought could darken into where else on his body he’d like those hands, Murphy clapped his hand on Javier’s shoulder and mentioned something about a meeting with Messina to bring all three of you up to speed.

* * *

He ducked his head to rinse the shampoo from his dark locks and grumbled something quietly to himself as he reached for a bar of soap.

* * *

As the weeks became months, the three of you had settled into a weird harmony. You had worked well together to chip away at Escobar’s bench, and when Pablo ended up in La Catedral, you all pored over what few photos and intel you got, trying to find a way to get him out of his perfect resort-style fortress and truly into a prison. Of course, when La Catedral fell instead, and Pablo escaped into the night, you all knew your lives were about to get much more difficult.

But through it all, Javier marveled at how you never seemed to let the work get to you. While he chain smoked his way through pack after pack, and Murphy dealt with Connie going back to the States by diving into a bottle, you would commiserate with them both but never fall deep into the empty wells they both seemed to be stuck at the bottom of.

Until one late night at work.

Javi and Steve gathered their things to make last call at the local bar. They floated an invitation your way and you waved it off, mentioning that you had one last file to read and then you were headed right to bed.

“It’s your loss. Javi here owes me a drink and I was gonna make him pay for you as well!” was all Murphy could get out before Javier shoved him two-handed out the door.

And like that you were alone. And it was quiet. Real silence for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. No ringing phones. No word processor keys clacking away. No cross chatter in Spanish and English. Just silence.

It was true, you only had one more file to get through, but its contents were starting to snowball out of control in your head.

Messina had tasked you with looking into Escobar’s child lookouts around Medellín. You had been spending your days deep in the slums, meeting with the police’s usual suspects of juvenile delinquents, orphans, and prostitutes.

Some refused to speak with you outright, others led you on wild goose chases around the city. Most just told story after story of dead bodies in the streets, the lingering aftermath of bombings, of all the blood that’s been shed over this drug war. And here you were, a _gringa_ helping the war continue in a country that wasn’t even yours. One woman, barely in her teens, screamed at you in Spanish through tears about the murders of her brothers. Whether it was at the hands of Escobar, the Colombian government or your own, it didn’t matter anymore. The damage to this country had been done, and it would take decades to heal.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until tears hit the gruesome photos that were paper clipped inside the manila folder. You closed and placed the file flat on your desk, elbows perched on the desktop, and let a shaky sob escape from your lungs as your face fell into your hands.

“…Fucking Murphy telling me to pay for his fucking drinks—hey just coming back for my wallet and my jacket. _Oh_.” Javi came barging in, reaching for the leather jacket draped over the back of his chair and stopped when we saw you.

Quickly you tried to play it off like nothing, wiping your eyes while looking up at Javi with a hollow laugh, “Jesus, Peña, you’d leave your balls behind if they weren’t attached to you,” a large sniffle punctuated your words.

He eyed you briefly, then held his hand out to you. “C’mon. I’m buying you a drink.”

“No, I don’t want to disrupt the Murphy and Peña show at the cantina tonight.”

“Not taking no for an answer. Let’s go. This stays here,” he gestured to the files on your desk, but you knew he meant more than just the physical folders.

“....fine. But I’m warning you now, Peña, I like to dance when I’m drunk.”

* * *

Javi didn’t know why, but you always referred to him and Steve by their last names. While he enjoyed the way your tongue rolled through his last name, he wanted to know exactly how _Javier_ would sound as it escaped your lips.

But the hot water was quickly fading, and judging by the ringing satellite phone _(probably Murphy)_ in the other room, he was about to be late.

Getting dressed was unceremonious for Javier Peña. Just a routine he fell into. _You should only think about what you wear when you want someone else to take it off._ So his typical jeans, button down, aviators combo became his unofficial official uniform. You three had a meeting at the base with Search Bloc about the tip line today and it was going to be hotter than the hinges of hell outside. This was practical for the weather. And the sweat.

The sat phone rang again. He glanced back at the clock radio by his bed and his brow furrowed when he saw the time. _Still have 20 minutes. It can fucking wait, Murphy._

He let it ring until it didn’t, focusing instead on brewing a good cup of coffee. He pressed the mug to his lips when he heard a knock at the door.

“C’mon Peña, let’s go!”

 _Murphy._ “Goddamnit.” The mug returned to the countertop and he went to open his door. As Steve appeared in the doorway, Javi was ready to greet his partner with a string of good morning expletives. But his magnum opus was cut off by his sat phone ringing for a third time.

Murphy eyed him for a moment, then shrugged before Peña stepped away from his door to grab the phone off the table.

“Peña.”

The voice was quick, stern, and spoke in Spanish.

_“Now you listen here, you American bastard, we have your bitch agent. If you want her back alive you will follow every single fucking word I say.”_


	2. kind of blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, there's some violence/torture and some non-consensual groping in this chapter.

_“Now you listen here, you American bastard, we have your bitch agent. If you want her back alive you will follow every single fucking word I say.”_

Peña’s eyes met Steve’s and immediately they rushed across the hall. Lucky for the three of you, as part of your work with the Embassy, they insisted on putting all three of you in the same building while in Medellín. Murphy lived above you, and Peña was across and down the hall from you. While Steve was making quick work of busting your door down, Javi stayed on the phone, but followed close behind.

“I’m listening.”

The deadbolt snapped through the doorframe as your door swung open. Immediately the two agents were greeted with the state of absolute turmoil your apartment was left in. Furniture overturned, marks on the walls, clear signs of struggle. _How the fuck did neither of us hear it?_

_“In 24 hours you will bring us the head of Colonel Carrillo to pay for his crimes against Colombia. Every day past that we are forced to wait, we will send your bitch back to you in pieces. Understood?”_

Steve was rifling through the mess in your apartment, looking for some type of clue that led to where you were or who took you. The only thing he found was your stereo turned on, a record that was still spinning on the turntable long since finished and waiting patiently to be flipped to the B side.Peña stood in your entranceway, free hand running through his hair to calm his nerves.

All Peña could offer was a _hmmm_ in the affirmative. So the voice continued, “ _Keep the line open. We will tell you where to bring that militant psychopath fucker in 12 hours._ ” _Click._

Lowering the phone, Peña looked up at Steve. Murphy was the one to break the silence.

“Peña, make the call.”

“No.”

“Goddamnit, Javi, make the fucking call!” Steve’s voice echoed off your apartment walls.

“We call this in, and the shit storm that will rain down on those fuckers will all but guarantee her death!”

“What about Kiki Camarena? We both know they won’t kill her because they know what will happen if they do.”

Javi shook his head and took a breath, “We are so close to getting Escobar, you know he’s been getting desperate. Messy. Letting his piss-for-brains sicarios make decisions. He knows his game is up soon, it's a matter of when.”

“…And who he takes down with him in the process,” Murphy said with a sigh. A glass of bourbon sat untouched on your coffee table. Steve sat down on your couch with a huff, his hand swatting the glass across the room until it shattered against the wall, “Fuck. What’s the play then?”

* * *

Hot sweat turned cold against your skin. You weren’t sure if the chill was making you tremble or if it was the pure adrenaline coursing through your veins. Either way, it was a welcome distraction from the pain in your arms. Your wrists were tied to a pipe above your head. You took a deep, shaky breath and closed your eyes, trying to piece how you ended up here.

* * *

It was almost sunrise when you all called off the drive through the streets of Medellín, chalking it up to yet another bogus tip. You were used to the disappointment by now, and after you bid the liaison from the Colombian police good night, you offered Peña and Murphy a drink to soothe their wounds. They both declined, Murphy with a loud yawn to accompany it.

“We’ll do it all again tomorrow,” you chimed with a sing-song tone as you heard both of their doors open and shut for the night. You were still fishing around in your purse for your keys, and by the time you found them, you were all alone in the hall. Unlocking your door was always a chore, the deadbolt stuck so it took some effort every time.

The inside of your place was modest, if a little bare. The few things you could bring from the States you had to think hard about. A few pictures of your family, favorite smaller furniture pieces, end tables and such, your favorite coffee mug, but your main focus was your record collection. You pulled a jazz album from the shelf and placed it onto the turntable. The system turned on with a click and as the tonearm moved over the vinyl, a warm sound came from your speakers.

Too tired to change or even make it to the bedroom, you settled on your couch with a glass of bourbon, figuring that Miles Davis would be your lullaby for what was surely going to be a short sleep before you needed to be back at work. Your eyelids were heavy, and you leaned forward to set the glass down on the coffee table. As your hand released its grip on the glass, you saw your apartment behind you reflected in the glass surface of the coffee table.

And something in that reflection moved.

Seconds before you could react, a gag went between your mouth and arms wrapped around your torso, lifting you off the couch. The couch fell back as your heels caught the back and pushed off to try and gain leverage against your assailant. Screaming against the cloth in your mouth as a bag went over your head, your legs flailed wildly, hoping to gain purchase on something else. Anything. Judging by the grunt and strained _puta_ that followed, you’d made contact with someone and it had forced them to collide with your wall. However something blunt made contact with the back of your head and that was the last thing you remembered.

* * *

Your shoulders already ached when you awoke, the muscles bearing the brunt of your dead weight while you were unconscious. Your hands flexed and balled into fists above your head, trying to keep the blood flow and feeling in your fingertips. Then the bag came off your head. Eyes blinked while they adjusted to the light.

You couldn’t yet make out faces but you could faintly make out conversations. Your Spanish was no where near as fluent as Peña’s, but you weren’t a complete _gringa_ like Murphy either. You had started by learning every possible curse word and were working backwards from that. It was working, to an extent. So all you heard at first was the heavy peppering of insulting names, likely in reference to you, and started to work on what came between.

Not sure if the ache in your head was from the rabbit punch that knocked you out or your tired brain trying to translate Spanish in a back-asswards way, you set the task aside for now and tried instead to get a grip on your surroundings.

You heard vehicle traffic which meant you were still in the city. It sounded oddly distant and the horns echoed, so you surmised that you were in the upper floor of a building. The way the sun angled through the slats in the boarded up windows was concerning, since you figured it was later in the day, almost sunset. You wish you hadn’t been unconscious for that long. More importantly, that was your sat phone in the hands of some narco. He set the phone down before he moved to where you were, and finally your eyes could see his face. He looked thin, verging on malnourished, and judging by his lanky limbs you figured him to be La Calaca, the skeleton, one of Escobar’s many hitmen. Behind him to your right was another, and you shut your eyes for a second to picture the cork board littered with photos that used to sit by your desk. El Tramposo, the cheat, another sicario.

“It’s not a fair trade. That hijo de puta Carrillo for this,” Calaca gestured towards you, “hermosa.” Tramposo huffed in agreement before swinging his fist across your cheek. Your head snapped to the side, against your arm, and you could taste blood in your mouth. Tramposo’s hand snaked into your hair and pulled sharply, forcing you to look up where your hands strained against their bonds.

“Typical American. Always wanting to be John Wayne,” Calaca closed the gap between you, and with accented English he now lingered inches in front of you, “Clearly no one told you, cowgirl, that John Wayne never had beautiful tits like these.” Calaca's hands, long and bony like his namesake, reached for the front of your cotton shirt and squeezed. You struggled against his grasp, growling into the cloth gag that continued to dig into your mouth.

“Ooooh, caliente,” hissed Tramposo before he connected with the other side of your face and judging by the pain you knew your nose was broken. Calaca yelled at his counterpart in Spanish, and as blood ran from your nose onto your shirt you focused again on translating.

_“Easy, Tramposo, if those DEA fuckers don’t deliver Carrillo, we’ll just fuck her before we shoot her and leave her body on the steps of the embassy.”_

_“Is Pablo really okay with killing her? Last time that happened….”_

_“Pablo says the damage the Americans would do to Colombia in vengeance would destroy any remaining good will between our government and theirs and it would force their presence out of the country for good. Peace for Colombia.”_

Tramposo was clearly in thought, and you felt that it was more painful for him to think than it was for you right now. You two locked eyes and you made a condescending face. So instead of thinking Tramposo punched you again, the blow forcing your left eye shut.

“ _Pendeja_.”


	3. slice the pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a heads up warning for some violence/torture in this chapter.

As he snuffed one cigarette into the ash tray, Javi already had another in his mouth ready to light. He glanced up at Murphy from his chair while he lit the fresh cigarette, took a long drag, and finally spoke.

“We have less than 24 hours. Less than 24 hours before we have no choice but to let Section Security know that Colombian narcos have kidnapped and potentially killed a US agent.”

“So, 24 hours before Medellín becomes a crater courtesy of Uncle Sam. Bueno,” a Search Bloc office grumbled.

“An outcome neither of us want. But they want Carrillo, so we can give them Carrillo and all of Search Bloc all at once. With guns blazing,” Murphy said.

“Once we find out where they’re holed up. They called from her satellite phone so it’s likely they will again. Centra Spike is wheels up, they’re on deck to help intercept and pin point,” Peña spoke as he gestured to the map of the city, “then we move in as two teams to surround the building, extract the package, and kill the fuckers inside.”

A uniformed officer rushed into the room, said something quietly in Spanish to Colonel Carrillo. He glanced up at Murphy and Peña, and motioned to his office.

Inside sat a reel-to-reel, a CIA agent already working on the tape, and Messina who had apparently flown in from Bogotá. Javi muttered a soft _fuck_ when he saw her. This wasn’t going to be good. Before Messina could speak, the tape reels started rolling. After a few passes, there it was, clear as day. Escobar’s voice came through the speakers, telling his men to turn off their satellite phones.

“We have to move now,” Carrillo was already moving for the door.

“You two are staying here,” said Messina, “It’s not negotiable.”

Carrillo gestured to his radio as he left, “We’ll be in contact.”

The door swung shut and Messina turned back to two of her agents now that the three of them were alone. “Any word on where she is yet?”

Murphy swallowed and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Peña.

“We’re expecting the call any minute, but as of right now we’ve got no leads.”

“Ears are in the air?”

Javi nodded.

“Good. You’ve got a small squad waiting to go in with you. If all goes according to plan, we’ll have both Escobar and my agent in one piece. Now look, I can keepAmbassador Crosby off your scent with the Escobar tip, but only for a bit so you two will have to move quick.”

Javi nodded again and turned to leave without another word with Murphy trailing after.

* * *

“How do we know the intel is good?”

“The girl said she rode in the taxi daily while Escobar was in the fucking trunk.”

Murphy sighed and shook his head, “Doesn’t feel right, us just sitting here.”

Javier was staring at the sat phone on his desk, hoping he could will it to ring. His leg bounced up and down under the desk, an outlet for his frayed nerves. His pack of cigarettes was almost empty, down to the last one. He glanced at the one loose cigarette inside and shoved the pack back into his jacket, saving it for later. Whatever type of situation ‘later’ was, he knew he was gonna need a fucking smoke.

Outside Carrillo and his men had just left in a caravan of flashing lights. _Steve had a point,_ Javi thought, _this_ _doesn’t feel right._ As the radios kicked on, Murphy reached to turn the volume up just a bit more.

Just as Carrillo's voice came through the radio, the sat phone sitting on Javi's desk rang. He looked at Murphy and Murphy shouted across the hall to make sure the trace was ready. Peña waited for the thumbs up from Steve and answered the phone by the third ring.

“Peña.”

“You must not like this chica if you waited so long to pick up,” Calaca spoke into the phone. He paced around you while Tramposo stood flush against your back, hand over your mouth in place of the cloth gag.

Javi cleared his throat, “Nope, just following proper phone etiquette. Always wait three rings.”

“You’re not a very good liar, cabrón. Where’s Carrillo?”

“We’re just gathering what’s left of him off the floor to bring to you, but without a return address it might get lost in the mail.”

“Another shit lie, American. I don’t like liars. They deserve punishment,” Calaca paused in his pacing, stopping to stare over at you.

“Well we can discuss my punishment when we meet. Where?”

“No, tarado, it is something we can discuss now,” and he nodded to Tramposo, who removed his cigarette lighter from his pocket, flicked the flame on, and held it up to your arms. The flames licked at your skin and you could feel the sizzling deep in the thin skin on your upper arms. It conjured a guttural scream from your core to your throat that vibrated around Tramposo’s hand just for a second before he pulled his hand free for the phone to hear.

Your scream rang tinny in the speaker of Javi’s sat phone, but it echoed loud enough Murphy heard it from feet away. He muttered a curse and pored over a map of the city, following the coordinates as they came in slowly from Centra Spike. He could hear Javi’s fist collide with the ash tray that sat on his desk, shattering the thick glass and sending a pile of bent and long-since extinguished filters flying. Hearing your pain cut through him like a knife and he wanted desperately to just reach through the phone and end this.

“You’ve got to keep him on the line, Peña, or else we lose ‘em,” Murphy spoke calmly, trying to keep his partner from boiling over.

“All right! God damnit! I’ll fucking give you George Washington’s head on a silver platter like John the Baptist just tell me where!”

Again your screams rang out in the background as Tramposo lifted your shirt to bare your torso and pressed the now-glowing hot metal of his lighter into your skin.

An agent wearing headphones turned to Murphy and circled a corner across town. Steve grabbed the whole map from the table and returned to Peña, making eye contact just long enough as an unspoken _let’s go_ before he headed for the door. Peña started to follow, kicking the chair out from under him as he moved.

“I think you already know where, so if you make it here in 10 minutes you might get to see the life leave this chica’s eyes.” The line went dead. Javi didn’t care, he was already yelling the address at the uniform sitting in the driver’s seat of the jeep they clambered into.

The small convoy sped through the streets, the jeep almost sliding to a stop as they hit the street corner marked on the map. Murphy and Peña had used the drive to get their flak jackets and gear on and come up with a quick plan on how to enter the building. 

They would move in groups of two, up the flights of stairs and around the corners. A team of soldiers guarded the exits while a sniper moved to take point on a roof. It was a swift entry, they moved like the breeze through the condemned structure. Javi took point, stopping just once, just before the door to the top floor. He heard fragments of a conversation, and a separate set of weak, panting breaths in between. He turned to his partner and the two soldiers that accompanied them, making a few silent gestures to communicate what he could hear.

_Two. Male. Enemy. One. Female. Hostage. Breach. Cover me. Confirm._

All three nodded and got back into formation. Peña gave the door a swift kick and it practically flew off its hinges. It was enough to surprise the two sicarios within while the three other men fanned out behind Peña and discharged their weapons. As the bodies hit the ground, the room fell silent, but Javi kept firing until his clip was empty and the slide locked back. His pistol dropped from his hands as he moved to where you hung, using a knife he pulled from his back pocket to make quick work of the knots that held your hands in place.

Your legs started to buckle underneath you as you came free and Javi quickly supported your weight with his, stilling just enough to look you in the eyes.

“You okay?”

Your head just barely tilted in a nod and Javi moved to lead you outside. Over his shoulder, he called out to Murphy, “Call it in, get an ambulance here ASAP.”

“Javi—“ Steve had his radio to his ear, and when Javier stopped to look back at his other partner, he saw him go white.

* * *

From outside, even across town, you could see the smoke rising above the city. Sirens screamed in the distance. You sat on the open tailgate of the jeep, a jacket you assumed to be Peña’s wrapped around your shoulders. Any other time you would revel in how soft and worn the leather was, how it smelled like him, but instead you three were crowded around the walkie talkie in Murphy’s hand.

It was an ambush, Carrillo and his men were all dead. The whole thing, you included, it was all a set-up. Separate the brute force of all of you combined and Pablo could enact his revenge on Carrillo by his own hand.

Javier walked to the end of the block and back, clearly trying to process, while Murphy just stared at his feet and kept muttering a single _fuck_ over and over until it crescendoed into one that echoed against the cars and into the night.

You wished the silence could hold, but you chose to try and inhale through your nose and cursed in pain. Steve turned to look over at you, and called out to Javi, “Ambulance isn’t gonna come. Should we just drive her to the hospital?”

“Yeah,” Peña called out as he walked back to the car, “I’ll take her. You head back to the base…or home…or,” his thought trailed off into nothing.

“Don’t need hospital. Just a first aid kit,” you croaked out, trying to move from your seat on the tailgate to stand on the ground. As your feet hit asphalt, your knees buckled once more and Javi moved in to prop you up again, setting his raging thoughts aside after seeing your condition.

“No, we’re leaving for the hospital now. Murphy, get back to base, let Messina know. Page me with updates.” Peña led you to the passenger seat of the jeep, helping you in and making sure you were buckled in before rounding the front to climb into the driver’s seat. The engine turned over and he quickly sped off, leaving Murphy and the remnants of Search Bloc to return to the base.


	4. no free hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning for a panic attack later in the chapter. 
> 
> But we about to get spicy, folks!

“Broken nose, concussion, broken orbital bone. Second degree burns on the arm and torso, possible cracked ribs. Other than that, she seems to be in good health. She’s sedated, for the pain, but she could be discharged and home by the morning,” the doctor collected the x-rays from the light box and looked over at Javier, who nodded slowly.

“No other…?”

“She’s fine,” the doctor insisted, “Beaten up, but she’ll recover. Based on her insistence on trying to set her nose herself after a nurse took too long, I’d say she’s a fighter.”

“Or fucking insane,” Javi sighed, then reached to shake the doctor’s hand, “Thanks, doc.”

“I would recommend light duty for a few weeks, though. No strenuous activity. And with these situations…there might be lingering psychological effects. Patience is key.”

The doctor smiled and left, shutting the door behind him. Javi turned to look over your sleeping form, IV dangling from your wrist, arms wrapped in bandages. He felt compelled to reach out and touch you, but hesitated for fear that even the lightest touch from him would be the final straw and you’d simply shatter into pieces. Instinctively, he reached into his pocket for his cigarettes, only to stop as he looked up at the large NO SMOKING sign above your bed. He muttered an expletive and decided instead to search for a cup of coffee.

It had taken him longer than expected to find the vending machine, even longer than that to get it to take the crumpled dollar he found in his pants. As he padded down the hall back to your room, he noticed the door was slightly ajar and he could hear your voice pouring out of the open door.

“Look, I just want to go home. I have a ride, he's...somewhere. Just discharge me, please.”

“Por la mañana. Descansa ahora,” the nurse replied.

“I can’t fucking understand Spanish right now,” you grumbled. Looking up, you saw Peña with his coffee in hand and gave him a desperate look. “Javi, please translate for me.”

He stared at you blankly for a beat, his mind unable to decide on what to react to first: you finally calling him something other than Peña, or your drug-induced belligerence at the nursing staff.

“Uuuhh…she said to rest. You can go home in the morning,” he finally said, which elicited another groan from you. The nurse, ever the professional, ignored you both and continued her job of checking your vitals before heading for the door. She paused briefly, and handed Javi an ice pack. “Por su cara,” she said, and gestured to her face before exiting the room.

Javier moved a chair to your bedside and sat down. With a deep sigh he relaxed for the first time in what felt like years as he took another sip of his coffee. As he balanced the ice pack in his other hand, he started guiding it towards the swollen half of your face.

“What is that?”

“Ice pack. Para tu cara.”

“What does that mean?”

“For your fucked up face.”

“Is it bad?”

“Well, it’s not good.”

“Hah," you huffed out a laugh, "You know I cannot feel it at all right now?”

“Yes, you are on,” Javi craned his neck to look up at what hung from the IV stand, “…a lot of drugs right now.”

“Hmm. I guess I can see why the cartels make so much money. You could hit me and I would not feel a goddamn thing right now. Seriously. Try it.”

“…I’m not going to hit you, cariño.”

“Why not?” you whined.

Javi held up both of his hands, one holding a hot cup of coffee, the other still gripping the ice pack, “No free hands.”

“I’m just hearing excuses.”

“Yes, and I’m hearing a drugged up mess who just needs to sleep it off with this ice pack on her face.”

“Por su cara,” you parroted the nurse earlier, eye lids heavy.

“Si, para tu cara, cabrón,” he chuckled as he laid the ice pack across your face.

“I’m not a stubborn goat,” you mumbled as you drifted back to sleep.

* * *

His cup of coffee went cold at your bedside as Javier fell asleep with his chin held in one hand.

He dreamt about walking in on you silently crying at your desk. A part of him wanted to bring attention to the fact that he was right, you weren’t perfect, you were just as broken and flawed as every other bastard here. But instead, he just held his hand out to you.

“C’mon. I’m buying you a drink.” _I’m broken too.  
  
_ To your credit, you did warn him that you liked to dance when you were drunk. He didn’t, however, expect you to slam back multiple shots of _aguardiente_ and physically pull him from his seat to dance with you to the slow, melancholic bolero music the band was playing. Murphy had long since left, placing a few bills onto the table and grumbling about how it was a quick walk home. Javier made a mental note about the money Steve threw down, thankful he didn’t end up paying for his partner’s drinks. Well, one of his partners at least.

So here you two were, arm in arm, as Javi led you through the dance steps to the music. Your face was a drunken flushed pink and you had just the slightest sheen of sweat, but to Javi you _glowed_.

“You look nice,” he finally said.

“I’m literally wearing what I wear to work every day, Peña. I don’t think about what I wear for work. It’s work.”

“Well it’s flattering regardless. Why don’t you think about what you wear for work?”

“Because you should only think about what you wear when you want someone else to take it off,” you said matter-of-factly.

Your feet moved in unison to the music, keeping up with each spin, dip, and sway Javi was giving you. You both stilled as the song came to an end, but his arms continued to hold you, and your hands remained on his shoulders. And you didn’t separate. And the band started a new song. And you didn’t separate.

You danced the night away.

* * *

The pager on his hip buzzed, waking Peña up. His wrist hurt from holding his head up all night, and he was going to have a stiff neck for sure. He felt it as he craned his neck down to glance at the pager, then quietly left you sleeping soundly in the hospital room to look for a pay phone.

“Looks like we were right. It was an intentional set-up by Escobar to get Carrillo alone and eliminate him by separating us,” Murphy told Javi through the receiver of a pay phone.

“They tell his wife?”

“She’s on her way in from Madrid. Funeral’s tomorrow. Messina gave us the day.” Murphy sounded slightly distracted, and Javi thought he heard metal clanging in the background.

Javi shifted his weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable with the topic, “Not a funeral person.”

“…how is she?” Steve was clearly trying to change the subject.

“Looks like a truck ran her over, but is acting like she could go five rounds with said truck.”

“They gonna discharge her? …Fuck goddamnit,” Murphy trailed off as something hit the floor.

“Yeah, I’ll take her home as soon as she wakes up. _What the hell are you doing?_ ” Javi questioned.

“I’m trying to replace the door we broke. Easier said than done with one hand apparently, I just dropped another screw for the hinges. Connie went ahead repainted the frame for me.”

“Connie?”

“…Yeah. She was waiting for me when I got home.”

Peña made a face he realized Murphy couldn’t see over the phone. So he cleared his throat and spoke, “That’s great, man. Look, uh, I’ll call you if I need anything, right?” Peña had a feeling that with Connie in town, he wouldn’t see much of Steve until they needed to be back at work.

“Of course. And I’ll leave the new keys underneath the mat,” Steve said before hanging up. Peña replaced the receiver on the cradle and headed back to your room.

When he returned, he found you sitting upright in bed, happily spooning a neon-green gelatin into your mouth.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Javi said with a smile. You turned your head to look at him and returned the smile. What was red and bloodied the night before was now turning into a smattering a purples, blues, greens, and yellows. While the swelling in your face had clearly gone down, Javi could see how stiff your body was just in the act of turning your head.

“Buenos días,” you responded between spoonfuls of jello.

“Oh, so you speak Spanish now? Last night you struggled with the nurses.”

You gestured to the local morning show that played on the tiny television set mounted in the corner of the room. The anchors sat at a desk emblazoned with _Buenos Días_ is bright warm colors on the front. Peña looked up at it and nodded, _must be the name of the show_ , then he turned back to face you.

“The doctor said you’re good to be discharged if you’re ready.”

“Thank Christ. I’d love a hot shower right now,” you huffed as you moved to get out of the bed. Before Javi could try and stop you, a nurse came in and quickly barked several things at you in Spanish. It took a moment for you to notice the wheelchair she was pushing in with her, and you put two and two together.

  
"Goddamnit," you muttered, looking at the wheelchair.

* * *

You two drove back in silence. Your body was still heavy with the painkillers they gave you, and you rested your head against the window while Javi scrolled through the radio stations. Parking the jeep outside your apartments, he hesitated in getting out, looking back and forth between you and his door handle before speaking.

“Wish they’d let us keep the wheelchair.”

“I _can_ walk, you know.”

He ignored you. “Or at least the nurse to yell at you some more in Spanish.”

“Now you’re just being hateful, Peña.”

It was an ordeal to get you up the stairs to the front door, with Javi finally settling on the best way being him standing right behind, hands on your hips to keep you steady and upright. His touch was gentle, too focused on each careful step you took to wander to anything more sexual. As you reached the top of the landing, he mentally kicked himself for realizing that it would have been easier to just carry you up in his arms.

Your new set of keys were under the mat just as Steve had said, and your new door unlocked with ease as it swung open into your apartment. Fear coiled around your chest as you stepped into the entryway, expecting to see the chaos it had been in last time you were here.

But the furniture was back in place, the few tchotchkes you had brought from the States back where you had meticulously placed them originally. Turning around, you looked for some piece of evidence that there had been a struggle here just hours prior, but couldn’t find any. Javier gently shut your door behind him.

“You can thank Murphy for the new door. We, uh, had to break your old one,” Javi held up the new set of keys before placing them down on a table you kept right by the door for your things.

You chuckled softly, admiring your partner’s handiwork before your eyes fell on a dark black scuff mark that trailed down the wall by the door. It was a boot print, your size, likely left behind as you were carried out of your apartment. Your body reacted to its presence with a shiver, quickly trying to play it off as you cleared your throat and spoke.

“I guess I’ll take that shower now.”

Javi nodded as he ventured into your kitchen, looking through your cabinets for something other than water to drink. Hour of the day be damned, he felt he finally deserved a fucking drink. You left him to his devices as you wandered into your bathroom, immediately reaching for the handle in the shower, as the water needed sometime to get to the heat you needed it at. That was when you turned towards the vanity and finally got a chance to see yourself in the mirror.

You had quite the shiner over your eye, but it was healed just enough to see through, and the eye that hid underneath the swollen lid clearly had a few broken blood vessels because all around your iris was a deep red. It still hurt to inhale fully through your nose _(or that might have been the cracked ribs)_ but luckily it was no longer stuffed with gauze to soak up the blood that didn’t seem to stop earlier. Reaching to open the medicine cabinet and thus pull the mirror closer to your face, you saw the clear tegaderm bandages that wrapped their way up to your elbow, exposing the damaged skin underneath.Deep down inside you could still feel your skin burn, and as you moved each finger it was like an individual lick of flame deep into the muscles of your arms.

Outside, Javi was about to settle down on your couch, glass of liquor in one hand and a record sleeve in the other when his pocket rattled. _Shit,_ he thought and set the sleeve down on the coffee table so his free hand could reach into the pocket of his jacket. Inside he found a bottle of pills the doctor had quietly given him as you left, _for the pain,_ he had said. Javi figured it had been long enough and walked towards the sound of the shower running. He found the door slightly ajar and he reached to push it fully open.

“Hey, the doctor gave me some high-strength ibuprofen for you in case you—“

The sudden intrusion brought the icy chill of panic through your body, and you slammed the medicine cabinet closed as you spun towards the voice. You collapsed to the floor, scooting as far away as you could, stopping only when you hit the edge of the bath tub. Breath came out in wheezes, your heart thundering in your chest as you hyperventilated.

Javi immediately raised his hands above his head as you dropped to the floor. The act of which sent some of the brown liquid splashing out of the glass that was still in his hands. “I’m not—I’m not gonna hurt you. It’s just me. Just Peña. It’s just me.” He spoke in a soft tone, repeating his words over and over to you.

Blinking once, twice, three times, you tried to make sense of the man now standing above you. Part of your brain screamed _friendly_ but panic and adrenaline squashed out logic; so like a cornered animal you stared him down waiting for the next move before speaking.

“You’re…you’re not going to hurt me?”

Javi nodded as he slowly lowered his hands, then the rest of his body to your level. “I promise.”

“How can I trust you?”

Javi eyed you for a moment, then reached for the bottle in his pocket with a slow hand. Then he gestured towards you with both hands, one holding a bottle of pills, the other holding his drink.

“No free hands.”

The words stilled your body and it was as if Javi’s face finally came into focus. Your body relaxed against the side of the tub and a hollow laugh came from your mouth as your head fell into your hands. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Javi placed his glass and the pills on the edge of the sink and crawled across the floor to sit beside you. His arm went around your shoulders and you found it surprising how easily you fit in his grasp.

“Do you want me to wear a bell next time?”

He was clearly trying to make you laugh, instead you just shook your head and sunk deeper against him. Behind you both, the shower continued to run, and steam was starting to pour over the curtain.

“Okay…no bell. Do you still want to take your shower?”

You nodded. _Yes._

“Do you need any help getting up?”

You shook your head. _No._

“Do you want me to leave?”

A moment of silence passed, and Javi took it as a yes so he placed a chaste kiss to the top of your head before he slowly stood and moved for the door.

“Javi,” you spoke softly and he turned to face you as you met his eyes, “Don’t go.”


	5. a quick spanish lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sprinkling spice like I'm salt bae out here tbh

He helped you undress. You had refused to leave the hospital in a gown so Javier was surprised _(yet not at all)_ when he met you out in front of the hospital in your bloodied and torn clothes from the night prior.

Now they peeled away from your body one-by-one. The tee shirt, stained and stiff with your blood and sweat, went over your head slowly. Your arms and shoulders still ached, so Javi had to remove one arm at a time. One leg of your jeans had been fully ripped open in the scuffle that put you in this mess, the other you stepped out of as he knelt at your side to roll the tight denim down your leg. He then shifted to kneel in front of you, placing your foot on his thigh to take the thick hospital socks off, one after the other. As his fingers danced feather-light against your ankles, you swallowed away a lump in your throat.

You stood over Javi in your underwear, and the limited space between you two began to feel electric.

He stood after a moment and began to move behind you to help with the clasp on your bra. You stopped him with a grasp of his arm instead, and your other hand slid into his jacket to force the leather from his shoulders down to the floor. His brow furrowed as he watched your hands move to his neck. Your fingers traced the line of his neck, down the open triangle of chest to release the first button. The rest of the buttons gave freely and with an unceremonious tug, you untucked the shirt from his pants before casting it to the tile alongside the jacket.

The silence finally broke as you made quick work of his belt buckle. Words poured out of Javi’s mouth like a sack of groceries falling down a flight of stairs.

“Wha—I. You…we shouldn’t,” You stopped him from babbling with a finger pressed gently to his lips.

“I can barely raise my hands to scratch an itch on my face. I…I need your help in the shower. And you’re not going to be much help wearing what you’re wearing.” You punctuated your point by pressing forward and unfastening the button of his jeans.

Every single neuron in Peña’s brain fired all at once as the zipper came undone. He failed to see the need for underwear, and on most days it was usually a hindrance, an extra step between him and what he typically wanted most in a woman. So now that his belt and pants were undone, the weight of his effects in his pockets combined with gravity and made the jeans slide down his frame to a dull thud against the tile. He stood before you, bared to the world, and for once tried to stop or at least slow the flow of blood down south.

You offered no comment, no statement on his body, but a blush began to spread across your chest, climbing up your neck to your face as you turned your back to him to hide it. Javier Peña was certainly gorgeous, you knew that from the moment you met. And just as quickly, you came to learn that he knew it too.

The clasp of your bra came undone without you asking as you lowered your panties and stepped into the shower. He followed a moment later, pulling the curtain closed behind him. While you moved to stand directly under the water, he located your bottle of shampoo and made quick work of getting your hair lathered up and scrubbing your scalp. Leaning into his touch, you hummed contently at the sensation and started to drift away while his nimble fingers moved.

* * *

Javi was no slouch on the dance floor, even your drunk ass struggled to keep up. But as the music slowed into another bolero, he held you closer to his body with one arm, the other moved to lace his fingers with yours. Your head came to rest gently on his shoulder, and as you got close, you realized he was humming along to the song. The act made his whole chest vibrate, and it spread from him to you. It made you relax even more into him and you took a deep breath in where his shoulders met his neck.

He wore a cologne that mingled perfectly with the smell of tobacco, warm and woody that was only punctuated by the warm Colombian summer nights. Your free hand came to rest at the base of his neck, tracing circles at the tiny patch of bare skin between where the collar of his leather jacket ended and the hair on the back of his head began. His skin was permanently sun-kissed. His hair was soft like silk. And that jacket….

When Javi placed your beaten form on the open tailgate of the jeep, his jacket went from his shoulders to yours in one fluid motion. You almost drowned in the material, but the residual body heat started to warm you up. Had he felt you shivering as he carried your body outside? He crouched down to your level and placed his hands on either side of your face so he could look into your eyes. He was probably just running a visual concussion test on you, but the physical contact made a stupid smile spread across your face. _You liked him._ Like some schoolyard crush, it hit you all at once.

* * *

“Tilt your head back so you don’t get soap in your eyes.” His voice brought you back to reality, and you did as told and tilted your head backwards underneath the spray. Your hair now rinsed out, Javi moved on to lathering up a washcloth and spreading the soap across your shoulders.

“Peña, can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm, depends on the question.”

“What does cariño mean?”

“Sweetheart,” he said while scrubbing delicately around the tegaderm bandages on your arms, “You know, you need to learn more than just the bad words in Spanish. There’s a lot of good ones too.”

You hummed through a smile that was spreading. “Call me that more. I like it.”

“On one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“I want you, _cariño_ ,” he practically purred his way through the word while the washcloth moved to your back, “to call me by my first name.”

A shiver ran down your spine. “Only if you teach me more of those good words in Spanish, _Javier_.”

_There it was._

He couldn’t help himself any more. His mouth found your shoulder, tasting your skin as it moved to meet your neck, sucking at a spot that hitched your breath then worrying over it with his tongue. You groaned against the muscle pain as your hands reached behind you to find the back of his neck, pulling you flush against one another. His arms wrapped around you, one hand firmly anchored to your hip while the other traveled up between your breasts to rest against the side of your face, thumb stroking your lips.

Javi whispered against your skin, punctuating his words with kisses against the side of your neck, right against the vein that was starting to throb. “ _Hermosa_ is beautiful. _Princesa_ is princess. _Mi cielito_ is my little heaven.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as his grip on you loosened. Your hair was sticking to the sides of your face and he gently moved to tuck the loose strands behind your ears, then reached down to turn the shower off. Instinctively you whined at both the loss of his touch and the loss of the water, and he lowered his head to place a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades before sighing against your skin.

“Doctor’s orders,” he muttered with a huff of disappointment before reaching for a towel.

“What?”

He wrapped the plush terry cloth around your shoulders, spinning you around to look at him. His pupils were dilated and his arousal stood at attention between the two of you.

“You’re on desk duty for the near future,” he grumbled as he wrapped another towel around himself, “Doctor said no strenuous activity.”

You stepped on to your bath mat, then over the piles of clothes, to stand in the doorway of your bathroom. You paused to dip your finger into the glass of amber liquor that Javi had placed on your vanity. Eyeing him from over your shoulder, the finger went into your mouth to savor the taste before leaving your lips to circle the rim of the glass.

“Two things, Javi. One: he said no strenuous activity for _me_ , not for _you_ ,” you padded away towards your bedroom.

Javi’s brow furrowed in confusion. Then he called out after you, “And the second?”

Your towel flew down the hall, past the door to the bathroom. “I don’t have a desk here!”

“ _Puta madre_ ,” was all Javi could croak out as he chased after you into the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ZAGGED ON 'EM.
> 
> (kidding, there's more smut coming.)


	6. a little death is a little heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh boise here we go!

Javi found you standing in your bedroom, naked and your hair still wet. He loomed over you, and in any other situation you would be intimidated to have him look at you the way he is right now. There was something so primal in his gaze, like a taut rubber band ready to snap. Reaching up to wrap your arms around his torso and pull him close, you awkwardly collide as he moved at the same time to pull the towel from his waist and wrap it around you both. Your chests met, and your hands came to rest against the heartbeat thumping away in his chest.

Heat rolled between you two as skin met skin once more. Part of him was holding back, you could feel it, and it made sense. To borrow his words the night prior, your face was still fucked up and your body felt like it was held together with cellophane tape. You realized that you would have to be the one to make the move. Onto tiptoes you rose, your noses just barely touching while water dripped from his hair onto you. A nervous chuckle bubbled in your throat as you reached up to push his damp curls back from his face. _That fucking face._ The physical contact tugged the corners of his mouth into the beginnings of a smile, but before it could blossom, your head tilted to the side and your lips finally met his.

It was chaste at first, the equivalent of dipping your toe into a pool to test the temperature.

But what happens after realizing that the water isn’t cold? _You jump._

Your hands slid up from his chest to rest on either side of his face, holding him close to you as you deepened the kiss. His hands started to roam against your skin, never staying in one place for too long. Javi wanted to savor every inch of your body and didn’t know where to start.

A faint moan forced his own lips apart, finally granting you access to taste him. He had to admit, he was surprised and impressed by your initiative, but he prided himself on being a man who knows and gets exactly what he wants. So he slowly started moving you backwards, inch by inch closer to your bedside while your tongues mingled and danced together. Part of you knew exactly what he was doing, and you didn’t mind, your focus was on savoring everything his mouth had to offer.

He tasted like like tobacco and citrus, a sensation that triggers a sense memory that sat deep in the back of your mind.

* * *

Sitting at a fruit stand on the side of a jungle highway with the DAS, operating a makeshift checkpoint for drug smugglers trying to come in through the mountains. The whole stakeout ended up being a bust, but it provided the owner of the fruit stand with some much desired income because you all killed the time by eating your way through the farmer's produce.

As Murphy spoke with the spotter up the road through a radio, you sat down in the shade of the stand. The heat had been getting to you, it was still early on in your time in Colombia, and within moments of you taking a seat on a burlap sack of potatoes, the wedge of an orange appeared in front of you.

“Take it,” Javi said softly as he looked down at you. He didn’t have to ask twice, you took the offering and ate it immediately, amazed at the way it seemed to burst with sweetness as it hit your tongue. A knowing smile painted Javi’s face as he watched you, and when your eyes met he winked and finally brought his hand to his mouth to suck on the lingering sweetness on his fingertips.

* * *

It was a blip of a memory, over just as quickly as it began, with the backs of your knees colliding with the side of your bed acting as your wake up call. Gingerly, Javi reached up to cover your hands with his and pull them away from his face. Your kiss ended as he pulled away from you, and it was like your plug had been pulled. You sat down on the edge of your bed, suddenly out of power, quietly trying to catch your breath that didn’t even know you had lost.

The mattress dipped as he knelt on the bed next to you. Fingers ghosted over your skin as he nudged your shoulder to get you to lay down on the bed. Falling back into the covers, for a moment you thought about just closing your eyes and falling into a deep sleep. But just as you started to fade, Javi’s mouth found your lips once more. As quickly as his lips met yours they were gone, moving to your jaw, to your neck, down your throat, stopping to suck a mark above your collarbone. Inhaling sharply, your hands started to tangle their way into Javi’s hair.

“Let me make you feel good,” his whispers were hot against your skin. He didn’t give you a chance to respond, instead he continued his way down your body. He stopped at the valley between your breasts, breathing you in as his fingers ghosted over one of your nipples, the other found by his hungry mouth. As his touch brought one to a peak, the sensation was replaced by his tongue. Back and forth he went, pulling moans from your throat with each touch as he fondled and explored your breasts.

Then down your torso he slid, as Javi’s large hands caress your sides. He placed a gentle kiss just below your navel as his movement slowed to a painful pace. He halted at the apex of your thighs and looked up at you, nothing but pure lust behind his brown eyes.

Then the hands continued south, past your hips, around your backside, down your thighs, to catch at the backs of your knees. Up your legs went, till your feet were flat against the pillow top. Then his hands rounded your knees before moving to part your thighs.

The anticipation was damn near enough to kill you, and as your legs parted, your breath was already starting to pick up once more, hands grasping at what little of Javi you could reach. Taking one of your hands in his, his thumb made slow circles against your wrist. He placed a delicate kiss on the back of your hand, letting it go to fall limp against the mattress. A kiss just as light was placed against one of your inner thighs, then the other.

One single finger probed forward and casually traced your slit, spreading the wetness that had begun to gather there. _Up and down, down and up, up and down_. After the eight or ninth stroke, you finally had enough. “Goddamnit, Javier, just touch me!”

He just smiled and laughed at your frustration. One finger then became two, spreading you open enough for him to draw a long, flat stroke of his tongue up your womanhood, stopping only at the bundle of nerves at its peak. A kiss, a lick, a suck, and you were already squirming for him.

But again Javi was a man who knows and gets exactly what he wants. And what he wanted was to drive you insane.

So he was going to take his time. _Fucking of course he’s taking his time._

He ate your pussy like a dessert to be savored. A wine to be sipped. Slow, languid licks dip in and out of your folds as if he’s trying to commit your taste to memory. The wet heat of his mouth surrounds your clit and it pulls whimper after whimper from you.

“Javi, please. Please make me cum,” you struggle to get the words out, hands white-knuckling your sheets. As you spoke, Javi pulled away to look up at you. His mouth glistened as it twisted into a smirk. Looking at him down the line of your body, you could see the snarky comment start to load in his head. It started with a series of _tsk, tsk, tsk_ s, but before he could get the rest out, you grabbed a handful of his hair and forced his head back down to your dripping cunt.

His hands grabbed at your thighs, forcing them as wide as they could go, then they moved to cup your ass. Lifting your hips in the air, he readjusted your position to gain better access to his prize. Your mouth opened in surprise and the sound that emerged started soft and quiet, before crescendoing into a throaty moan as a finger finally slid into you.

As his finger pumped in and out to a steady rhythm, he pulled away again to kiss you. Relishing in your own taste on his mouth while his tongue played with yours, he added another finger to your pussy. His lips moved from yours to kiss down to your neck. His thumb started working in slow circles at your clit while he sucked a purple welt into the skin at your neck.

Over and over, his name rolled off your tongue like it was a prayer. You were getting close, and you were sure Javi knew. He had moved to suck your nipples back to tense peaks. Sliding back down your body, he left his free hand behind to cup one of your breasts.

As he returned to his place between your legs, the slow-like-molasses pace he had been using was gone. He devoured you, every inch of you, as his fingers crooked up to brush against a spot within that made you see stars. His other hand found a nipple and gave it a rough twist. You could feel him smile against you as your hips began to buck. Obscene things were flowing out of your mouth as his met your clit once more and your hips kept rocking against him.

“Fuck, Javi, I’m gonna cum,” was the only coherent thought you could make, and in response, Javi hummed against you. Your whole body shivered at the vibration and the combination of sensations was enough to send you tumbling over the edge into your orgasm. Every nerve ending in your body felt like it was shooting sparks, your whole body tensed up against the sensation while wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your veins. Javi held you in place with one hand as you rode it out, crying his name until your throat was raw.

Eventually the ringing in your ears died down, your eyes could see again, and your hand finally loosened its grip in Javi’s hair. Still his tongue stayed against you, warm and soft like velvet gliding over skin. A wayward lick at your core made your whole body twitch with overstimulation. So Javi placed a kiss against your inner thigh once more before moving to lay beside you on the bed while he idly sucked on the fingers he had just removed from your heat.

Then he placed a kiss against your shoulder, lingering there as you slowly turned your head to look at him. His face was plastered with a shit-eating grin, while yours was flushed pink high in your cheekbones. Before you could put any words together in your head to speak, a thought flew across Javi’s face. He rose from the bed and disappeared for a few seconds, returning to the room while lighting his last cigarette he retrieved from his jacket pocket. He collapsed back onto the bed next to you, a long exhale releasing a puff of smoke towards the ceiling.

With a smile, he turned to you once more, “Cariño?”

“Javier?”

“How do you feel?”

“Heavenly,” you sighed out.

“ _Mi cielito._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why-eee-double-YEW
> 
> hopefully i'll have another chapter up in a few days.


	7. get well soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok this one took a while for me. just trying to get through some time-line shit, but hey! i've got content for y'all.

You woke up in a tangled mess of blankets. Underneath the web of covers on your bed, your legs flailed and fought to free a foot to the open air. Like a starfish, you stretched out against the mattress. Joints popped, muscles stretched, and a satisfied groan came from your mouth. Reaching to the other side of the bed, you found it empty but still slightly warm, a reality that you half-expected, but didn’t enjoy. _Of course Javi was already gone._

Sitting up was still a chore, it took a few tries to get up and settled comfortably against your headboard. On the bedside table sat a telephone, and you hoisted the whole thing into your lap, fingers dialing the number from muscle memory. It took more rings than you would have liked, but finally the other line picked up.

“…Yeah, it’s Murphy.”

“Oh. Hey.”

“Heeeeeey, there she is! Welcome back to the land of the living!”

“Very funny. Don’t make me come back a day early just to make you my twin,” you griped at Steve with an audible smile in your challenging tone.

“Noted. So what do you need? I already took the liberty of making sure the flowers that have arrived on your desk were watered. …Might’ve killed them in the process.”

“Have you see Javi today?”

He had never heard you refer to either of them by their first names. “You mean Peña? He was here earlier. Got a phone call and blasted out of here pretty quickly after that. Why? Did he say something to you?”

“No, he just wasn’t here when I woke up,” as soon as the words left your mouth, you tried to pull them back in, hand clapping over your mouth in the process. _Shit._

The line was silent for longer than you would have liked, and after a beat you heard Murphy pull away from the receiver to call out, “Hey, Trujillo, you owe me $20!”

“ _Steve.”_

“He said something about having some business to take care of. Look, I trust him, against all of my best judgement. If he was getting into some dangerous shit, he would have said something,” Steve said with a calm reassurance.

You sighed and sunk against your headboard. _He was right._ You cleared your throat, “Good. Okay. Let me know if you hear anything, otherwise, I’ll see you in the morning. And Murphy? One last thing.”

“I know nothing regarding you and Javier Peña,” he said in a low monotone.

“Exactly.”

You hated how much you spent the rest of the day wondering if Javi was going to return. By the time the sun started to set you were starting to think you were still working out the painkillers they gave you in the hospital and were having really, _really_ vivid dreams. But when you were standing in your kitchen, hovering over the sink while you downed two ibuprofen with a glass of water, there was a knock at your door. You opened the door to find a tiny pink bear, clearly bought from a drug store and a sticky note pinned to his chest.

_Recuperate pronto, cariño._

_-Javi_

* * *

Here’s the thing with trying to keep your personal life out of your professional life. It’s hard to do when the person that typically sits at the desk to your right recently left a large hickey on your neck that is currently creeping over the popped collar of your jacket.

A few small floral arrangements had been left on your desktop and upon entering you corralled them all to one corner of your desk to uncover the stack of files that were hidden underneath. From the corner of your eye, you watched as Murphy lit a cigarette, his eyes focused squarely at the mark on your neck.

“I know it’s there. Stop staring at it.”

“Didn’t think to try cover-up?”

“Used it all on my face.” Your gaze finally met your partner’s, and you swore he sunk into his chair a little. From behind you, a blur of officers came in, and as much as they tried, you saw the dextrous exchange of Trujillo slipping a bill into Murphy’s outstretched palm as he passed by.

“He’s the only one,” Steve said quietly as he shoved the money into his wallet.

Your return to work came with little ceremony, and you had to admit that you preferred it that way. You didn’t want any sympathetic looks, and the lack of light shoulder touches was more than welcome. But the realization dawned on you that this was something that happened every other day in Medellín. The only difference was that you were part of the few lucky enough to come back alive.

So without the pomp and circumstance ( _and cake_ ) you sunk back into your work without issue. At the bottom of the stack of files that lay on your desk was a sealed envelope with a red CONFIDENTIAL stamp across the front. Likely new intel from Centra Spike, the seal evident as you opened the envelope. There was nothing particularly revealing in its contents, a few mentions of the deaths of Calaca and Tromposo, Blackie making vague plans to visit a whorehouse. Still, any news was good news right now, so habit forced you from your chair to walk the file to Carrillo’s office. As you peered through the glass door to the abandoned space within, you froze.

 _Right._ No Colonel, and any info you got was dead in the water. Still, the world kept spinning, cocaine kept moving, and eventually a replacement would be chosen. Opening the door, you placed the file on the desk, adding it to an already sizable pile, and headed back towards your desk.

When you returned, Peña had arrived. His chair leaned back with a metal squeak as a plume of cigarette smoke rose from behind a file that hid his face. You exchanged a look with Murphy, and his response was a quick shrug and a head shake. Silence hung between the three of you for at least another hour. Even with no head of Search Bloc, the work you three all had to share had not let up. The tip line kept ringing, but now it all ended up on that empty desk.

So finally Murphy spoke. “You blew out of here fast yesterday, Javi.”

“Had to follow up on a CI,” Peña muttered.

“Anything we can use?”

Javi’s chair squeaked again as he shifted in it, face still hidden behind the manila. “Not yet, but we’ll see. You know I’ll always tell you when the time comes.”

“I sure hope so. You know we are in this together, right?” Steve said as he gestured between the three of you, “All three of us. We all want Escobar dead.”

Finally the folder lowered slowly, and Javi looked from Steve to you and back. Then after a beat he nodded. “Of course.”

One of the phones between the three of you rang and Javi’s hand immediately shot out to answer. Pretty quickly he started speaking in Spanish to whomever was on the other end, so you used it as an excuse to stretch your legs and get a cup of coffee. By the time you returned, Javi was gone, leaving a still smoldering cigarette in the ashtray. Looking around, you noticed Trujillo was gone as well. As you set the paper cup down on the desktop, you noticed a report, half-typed in Javi’s word processor, that was left abandoned as well.

“Another CI?” you asked quietly, trying to ignore a nagging feeling in your gut.

Murphy made a noise, not fully an affirmative, not fully a question. It made something prickle inside and you reached for the abandoned cigarette on Javi’s desk, placing it between your lips and taking an extended drag. Exhaling as your head met your hands, you glanced up at Steve as you spoke again.

“Should we be worried?”

“You and I both know Javi has done some…stupid shit before. But he does want to take Escobar down. You and I just need to hope that the ends justify the means. I thought you didn’t smoke,” Steve said as he gestured to the vice between your fingers.

“I don’t."

He could only offer a chuckle as he stood from his desk, putting his jacket back on as he continued, “Look, I’ve gotta get back to Bogotá. Connie’s headed back to Miami today.”

You held your hand up to cut him off, “Get out of here, Steve. Tell Connie I said ‘hi.’”

But he was already out the door, offering a wave and a distant “Copy that!” as he left.

With a sigh, you glanced at the cigarette still between your fingers, spent almost to the filter. _Waste not, want not_ was all that crosses your mind as you took one last drag before digging what was left back into the ashtray.

* * *

The next few days brought a new colonel to Carlos Holguín: Hugo Martinez. He was strictly by the book, turning your under-the-radar operations into full military grid sweeps of comunas.After your very first meeting with him, Javi later wondered out loud over beers if Hugo called up the general just to take a piss.

_“No, he just makes his wife do pushups if the bed doesn’t have a 45-degree angle fold in the sheets,” Murphy quipped as you choked on your beer._

The change was obviously having a negative effect on Javi, who would grumble and complain about his methods in hushed tones to you and Steve after the first few debriefing meetings. Then one day the base received a call that shook you to your core.

Velasco, strung up in chains, in the middle of Medellín. The image was seared into your mind the second you climbed out of the jeep. The martyr-like symbolism was not lost on you, and the new threat of Los Pepes seemed to fester in the back of your mind.

“People Persecuted by Pablo Escobar? You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” scoffed Steve as he scanned the newspaper headlines before tossing them onto his desk.

“Can’t argue with results, Steve,” Javi said calmly while reaching for the top newspaper.

Finally, you spoke up, “But where does it end? _When_ does it end? They’re vigilantes, and vigilantes always get innocent people killed in their wake!”

Javi stiffened, his eyes refusing to look up from the paper to meet yours, “So do we.” Then he stood up and gestured to you and Steve, “C’mon, we’ve got a meeting with Martinez.”

Ultimately, Martinez was the right choice to command Search Bloc. He got results and thought with tact. But it always seemed that by the time he had measured twice and was ready to cut once, the lumber was always long gone.

“There must and will be a clear line between Los Pepes and us. Understood?” The colonel addressed the whole room and immediately everyone voice their affirmatives.

As the three of you returned to your desks, Steve spoke up, “Messina said it’s a good idea to keep our distance from Los Pepes. Whole lotta eyes on us right now, don’t want to mess anything up.”

Javi stopped dead in his tracks and looked up at Steve with stone sincerity. “Are you working for Los Pepes, Agent Murphy?” Steve shook his head as Javi turned to you, “And you Agent? Are you working for Los Pepes?”

You replied with a middle finger. Javi gave a light chuckle and shrugged his shoulders.

“Then I guess we’re good.”

Over the course of the following weeks, it seemed like every time you would get a lead on a cartel member and be ready to apprehend them, by the time Search Bloc arrived, they were already dead. And every time Los Pepes would lay claim to the massacre.

You were still on desk duty as December approached, and were left behind as the whole base set out towards Envigado, leaving hopes of bringing Blackie in for questioning in their wake. The whole base was empty for what felt like hours, leaving you to nervously chew on your pen as you made marks on fresh intel as it came in before passing it along to the next person’s desk for vetting. To distract yourself, you ended up thumbing through the filing cabinets just past your desks when you heard the cacophonous sound of boots that signaled everyone had returned. From the corner of your eye, you saw Javi come stomping in, Murphy hot on his tail. From where you were, you only caught blips of their quiet conversation.

“He’s not a friend, he’s a man with a shared interest.”

“Jesus Christ, Peña, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t worry so much, it’s not going to blow back on you.”

“Oh, I can handle it. But it’s not me I’m worried about,” Steve paused and sighed, looking over his shoulders as he leaned in, “These are not the types of guys you should be messing with.”

Javi lit a cigarette and lowered his head, “They’re gonna do it with or without me, right? This way…I can control it. Things don’t go too far.”

“Too far? They pointed guns at the good guys’ heads and that’s not too far for you?” You could hear Steve’s voice start to crack from the anger that was bubbling beneath.

“And we’re the good guys? Us?” Javi stared his partner down, and as Steve turned his head away he locked eyes with you, hands full of files, finally appearing from just around the corner. Javi followed Steve’s line of sight to finally see you, and before you got a chance to speak he tossed his cigarette into the ashtray and walked off.

* * *

As the days ticked closer to Christmas, you were the first one at your desk one morning, on the phone with Messina before Javi and Steve walked in.

“And you can confirm this?” you boss’ voice cracked over the outdated receiver that was your desk phone.

“Yeah, my contact in Cali confirmed the explosion was at Gilberto’s daughter’s wedding reception last night,” you spoke softly as people started filing in for the day.

“Jesus, what sort of Godfather, Vito Corleone bullshit. And you can confirm that Escobar was behind it?”

“ _Messina_. Who else would be so bold?”

“Right,” you could hear her shifting papers in the background, “Look. I’m going to take this to the Ambassador. Use it as proof that we need to move more resources to Cali, and I’d like you to be a part of that team, if you’re willing.”

“Oh. Wow,” you started to speak as your partners came in, the two of them like a mini tornado of coffee and cigarettes while you readjusted how the phone was cradled between your ear and shoulder, “I’m flattered, really, but I’ve just been cleared for field work again and I’d like to see this through.”

“I understand, but keep this in mind. Escobar’s not going to run forever. And I know your file. You’d be a good fit for the Cali team. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you replied and hung up. You could feel your partners’ eyes on you, and you scrambled to come up with a believable lie. You pointed at the phone, “Messina. Just checking in, reminding us to take a moment to breathe for the holiday.”

The boys exchanged a look and a shrug, then Steve pulled a third cup of coffee out of thin air and placed it in front of you.

“That’s complete and utter bullshit, but we’ll give you points for thinking on your toes,” Steve said with a chuckle. As you took a sip, silence sat between the three of you. Since this mess with Los Pepes began, it seemed like more and more of your time together was spent in uncomfortable silence. From behind Murphy, someone was taping tinsel garland to their desk and you used that as an excuse to break the quiet.

“So, boys, what did you get me for Christmas?”

On queue, both of them looked across at each other, a brief flash of panic in their faces. You laughed into your cup, clearly finding some joy in their instant discomfort.

“I brought you the coffee,” Steve said as he gestured to the cup in your hands.

“I remembered how you take said coffee,” Peña chimed in. You were already shaking your head. “Nope. Not good enough. But, I’ll make you two a deal. We go out tonight, and you cover my tab, and that way you don’t have to worry about wrapping anything.”

Steve frowned, then pointed down at his desk. “We’ve got work to do tonight.”

“Steve. It’s Christmas Eve. It can fucking wait one night. Please. Us three?” you motioned between the three of you, “We are all we have right now. And I’m not letting either of you spend the evening on your respective couches drinking alone.”

“Or in Peña’s case, with who is it now? Florencia?” As Steve said the words, his shoulders hunched and he was suddenly avoiding your gaze.

“Actually, her name is Johnnie Walker Red Label, thank you very much, asshole,” Javi muttered under his breath.

“I’m not taking no for an answer. From either of you,” you slammed your foot down at the end of your sentence, really trying to drive the point home.

And for the rest of the day, you never heard a ‘no.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will these idiots ever talk about their feelings? what a better way to do so than through brown liquor and a ramshackle christmas party???


End file.
